The Dragon’s Scion Part 105

The sun was setting over Emerita, sinking below the horizons and casting long shadows over the town. It glowed red as it dipped, and illuminated the sky with bands of color from red all the way to indigo. Strips of unlight sapped the color along the edge of each band, ugly breakages of the normally beautiful sunset. Tythel wondered if they were new, or if she was just now noticing them. Surely they hadn’t been there back when she was living with Karjon. She’d watched the sunset numerous times from the edge of the lair, staring as intently as she dared as day bled into night.

Dusk and dawn had always been evil times, when the world was between the Light and the Shadow and not fully under the protection of either. Now that they were revealing unlight corruption that stretched even into the sky, they showed exactly what evil was lurking between the two. The Alohym had taken the domain that had once been filled with demons and fel spirits, and unlike their predecessors, they walked Alith whenever they wished.

They were back in Tythel and Eupheme’s room. Tellias was perched on the edge of the table, slicing off chunks of an apple with a book open across his knees. It was this year’s almanac, and he was trying to figure out if they should be wary of any storms on their path. Tythel had been laying back in her bed, Karjon’s notebook open in her lap, when the setting sun had caught her attention. She was just about to ask Tellias how long ago he’d started noticing those unlight bands, or if he even had, when they were interrupted.

“I think I know what had Eliert so spooked,” Eupheme announced, stepping out of the shadow behind the dresser. Tellias nearly fell off the edge of table he was sitting on. At least his stumbling covered up Tythel starting at the sudden sound.

“Is it because you popped out of flathing nowhere?” Tellias asked, shooting Eupheme a glare. “You keep that up, you’re going to send me to the Shadow early.”

“I’ve never managed to send someone to the Shadow just by showing up, so that would be a treat,” Eupheme said with a smile. “But I doubt it. Usually when I send someone to the shadow, I need to be a bit more direct with it.”

Tellias sighed. “Has it ever occured to you how unfathomably rude that is?”

“Of course,” Eupheme said brightly. “Several times a day. But then I remember that I could not possibly care any less about rudeness, and I push it aside. Now, m’lord, do you want to hear what I learned or chastise me for being infinitely more amusing than you give me credit for?”

“Of course we want to hear,” Tythel said before Tellias could needle her further. “Or at least, I want to hear, and Tellias is going to listen.” Anything’s better than the two of them bickering, Tythel added, although she kept the thought to herself. Ever since they’d left Hallith, Eupheme and Tellias had found reasons to snipe at each other at every opportunity. Tellias thought that Eupheme should give him the respect his station deserved, and Eupheme thought Tellias was a stuck up prig that could handle being brought down a peg or twelve hundred.

At least, that’s what each of them told her. Tythel had hoped that the tension between herself and Eupheme had been the root of the Umbrist needling Tellias at every opportunity, but it seemed that the Light didn’t favor her in that regard. Eupheme gave Tellias a deliberately childish smirk – at least, Tythel thought that’s what it was – before pulling something out of her pocket.

“This has been going around.” She showed it to Tythel first.

It was a Death Writ, the kind that was used in the days of the old kingdom. Tythel had seen them in history books before. They were used for the most despicable of criminals, monsters the crown could not capture or find, making sure they had no safe haven in any law abiding town or villiage – turning the entire kingdom into a weapon against a single individual. Anyone who managed to bring back proof of death for the subject of a Death Writ would find themselves elevated to the rank of Minor Baron – or if already of the nobility, elevated even higher – and given land and wealth to support that rank.

At least, that was how it had been. Tythel wasn’t certain what the Alohym awarded those who managed to fill the Death Writ, and the Writ didn’t make it clear what would be awarded.

Looking down at the paper, seeing her own face – complete with eyepatch – Tythel was left to wonder what the person who killed her would be given.

“Why would this have made him nervous?” Tythel asked, fighting against the sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. “He didn’t see my face.”

“But the veil didn’t hide the eyepatch,” Eupheme said as Tellias glowered at the paper. “Eliert may be a worm, but he’s not a stupid worm. A Xhaod warrior maiden showing up wearing an eyepatch? With these floating around? It doesn’t take a vast intellect to determine that you were the same.”

“We have to get moving,” Tellias said, his voice hoarse. “Even if Eliert doesn’t turn on us…how many people saw you?”

Tythel blinked rapidly as she thought. “There was the meat vendor, and there was Eliert and his thugs, and there were several dozen people in the market, and the innkeeper, and…” Tythel sighed. “Too many. Far too many.”

Eupheme nodded, her humor from earlier gone. “We leave after the sun has finished setting, under the domain of the Shadow. I wanted to see if we could purchase a Skitter, but…”

Tythel agreed. “Even if we could afford one, which is questionable, it’s too big a risk. The cart will have to do.”

“What about horses?” Tellias asked.

“If we can’t steal any,” Eupheme said, “We’ll have to drag the cart. Now that we have a cell and mind for your armor, you and Tythel can share the burden.”

Tellias looked like he wanted to object to being a beast of burden, but before he could, Tythel held up a hand to silence him. “Sounds from downstairs,” she said.

The sound of arccells charging.

“I don’t think we can wait until nightfall,” she said, her voice tense. “Writ hunters are here already, in the common room.”

No more words were spoken as they scrambled to grab what they could before they had to choose between fight and flight.